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Sick as an iPod

Goddamned Cat Ba Island has ruined my life. I think i'm going to coin a new word in its honour. Cat Ba: Disaster. Usage: What a Cat Ba! This whole thing has been nothing but a bloody Cat Ba. Anyway, my moaning is almost over, I just have to break the news that Yakumoto has contracted a virus. It happened at that piece of crap place with the overpriced dial up. I don't know how a computer that crap could even support a virus. Suddenly my iPod is riddled with applications disguising themselves as Folders. They double up every folder, put the new one of the same name inside the original and give it a folder icon. But you double click on it and all of a sudden the computer you're on has the same applications all over everything. It also disable's the computer's ability to view hidden files. You can't do it via the tools menu anymore. Maybe some round about course of commands might help but what the hell do i know about computers anyway!? It doesn't seem very malicious, but. I have already infected the computer at the hotel we're staying at (they deserve it - bunch-o-sleazes) and its hard drive hasn't been wiped and nothing's crashing. I don't know what the hell it does. For a brief moment we accidentally glimpsed an MS DOS Batch file called Ghost - subtle - and Paul deleted it and it's accompanying 'folder' but i think they're back on there already.

My ten point plan for the future is to go home, back up my entire computer, plug in my iPod and burn nothing but photo files to dvd, wipe my iPod, wipe my computer, reinstall everything, replace all my files, return all my music to iPod land, and send a letter bomb to Cat Ba Island.

Our visit to Bich yesterday went awkwardlessly enough. It was great to see that all that advertising from PLAN led to something solid. Bich was very quiet and didn't know what to say. We gave her two scarves that Paul's grandmother made (one for Bich's mum) and a Vietnamese translation of Jane Eyre (it was that or Harry Potter the third) and a bunch-o-stationary, books, pens etc, even though she just finished school and has only one exam left. Her mum was really cool and somehow reminded me of my mum (don't go thinking you're cool now). She gave us a bunch of bananas as a gift and a huge bag of peanuts. Unsalted. They gave us the bananas after we told them that in Australia there's a banana drought and they cost $14 a kilo. Everyone just about fell over and now they think Australia is completely fruitless (haha). They showed us this massive bunch, about two kilos, and said it cost them 9000 dong. That's 75 cents. We're gonna smuggle a truck-load home and pay off the customs officials in bananas.

About three doors down from our hotel there's this incredibly short vietnamese man who sells water and drinks and fruit. He has a little table and a bunch of plastic chairs (you get this set-up about every ten feet on every street in Vietnam). His name is Phu and he's been teaching himself English from an exercise book and conversations with foreigners. He speaks really well and is really interested in how we live in Australia. He was blown away when Claire said she drives a car everywhere and understood better when Paul and I said we don't drive at all. But we insisted on explaining that we are the only people we know who don't drive a car. He didn't quite get it.

We left Paul alone for one hour today and when we met up with him again we found over 50 DVDs on his person. I felt bad for the poor pirate that had to sit there with him in front of the tv and prove the quality of every disc. At around a dollar fifty each, he spent about as much as he would have on two DVDs at home. So the only thing I can say is PIRACY FUNDS TERRORISM!!! Sigh. Piracy funds the nice lady with the remote control and that's about it.

Tomorrow we see the pickled corpse of Uncie Ho and then some Temple of Literature. Then we shop. I bought a fish today whose name is Loi. They wanted $40 for him, but I got him for $15. I was the good luck morning customer and I refused to pay the good luck morning price. They caved when I said i can't afford to bargain. Same thing happened to Claire. A guy was asking 800,000 for this zillion year old antique magic pot thing brought to us from whatever dynasty via a radical time machine doova and she said she only had 300,000 to spend. Half an hour later when she had almost made it to the door he wrapped the thing up and sold it to her to her for 300. Why bargain when you can plead student.

Anyhoo, I'm gonna schedaddle. The Devil's Advocate is on HBO tonight! No only joking. We missed it because Claire insisted on eating dinner. Joking again.

alrighty,
Bec,
Hanoi.

PS: ARGH my poor iPod and my vulnerable collection of priceless photography! What will i dooooooooo?!?!? (*#IUFHPIUWTY_BR($365-9WTEUIFHAP9R865-Q93!!! (the virus says hi)

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Theory

So Bec, I have been thinking...following various circumstances involving food poisoning i have come up with the following theory! I have realised that the only times i (and many fellow travellers) have been sick has been when i have eaten at restaurants...we have the veggie spring roll ordeal in Sapa last year and Kaz and i had the killer seafood in Koh Chang, Thailand. This trip i have been mainly eating at food stalls in markets and roadside and never been sick (not including the koh chang prawns of death). my theory goes as follows: The restaurant is more likely to carry bacteria and have cross comination due to the fact that it isn't packed up, cleaned and moved everyday like food stalls. Also you can't see how they cook the food or how the food is stored! The food at stalls is fresh everyday because there aint no fridges! So far my theory has proved me right, though i won't hold my breath! ;)

Now lets backtrack!

Hey! Well Kaz and i thought Koh Chang island was the bomb! After a lovely 4 hour air-conditioned coach ride we hopped on the ferry to take us to the island. Our first impressions weren't all that good but as we drove further passed the touristy resorts and 7-11's we found a lovely spot called lonely beach. we arrived rather late into town so we found somewhere for the night at a place called the treehouse. It was a little hut not far from the beach on stilts made of palm leaves with just a bed and a mosquito net...very cute. Before we went to sleep we cracked open a few coconuts and had a mini feast. The next morning we woke to the sound of thuds of coconuts falling from the trees and decided to look for somewhere else, the fear of death by coconut got the better of us...just jokes, they charged too much for a room with nothing in it. with not much effort at all, we found the bungalow of our dreams, halfway between the nicer beach and the treehouse restaurant where all the good